


Invention, the Mother of Necessity

by nocturnal08



Category: Alphas
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 16:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/599961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nocturnal08/pseuds/nocturnal08
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skylar's alpha ability makes her a tempting target. She's been eluding capture for years, determined not to be anyone's latest acquisition. This complicates the "catch and release" operation Nina and Rosen have planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Caught

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skylar’s special ability makes her a tempting target.

_Skylar’s smarter than just about anyone. She was always inventing things, even when we met her. That’s her special ability. Creating things people have never seen before.  Taking things apart, putting them together..._  
  
They were there answering an ad for her voice mimicker. That’s why Skylar let them in. The older guy looked like a college professor with his well-groomed gray hair and glasses. Beside him was a tall woman with dark hair and pouty lips. He was wearing a plaid shirt and jacket, glancing out behind his glasses with earnest curiosity.  She was in blue silk blouse and black skirt, all accentuated curves and a sense of power, personal and sexual. It was a bit of a cognitive shock, seeing such a strange pair.  
  
Skylar watched them talking to one another on her surveillance monitor, mind momentarily occupied with inspiration for a program that lipread conversations off recorded images. She buzzed them in, knowing she could always come back to the idea when she had time.  
  
The monitors showed their steady progress up the narrow stairs until they stood awkwardly in the threshold. It was hard for Skylar to tear herself away before she’d finished something, to leave it on the operating table like this, but the sense of urgency was a false one. Her patients very rarely expired when left to their own devices.  
  
“Here it is,” she said, picking up the invention from the side table of completed work. “Press this button to normalize it, whatever speech pattern you want it to pick up.” She held it up for a voice sample.  
  
They looked uncomfortable and Skylar waited, impatient to make the sale. Then both of her visiters spoke at the same time.  
  
“Skylar, I’m --” started the man.  
  
“We’re from --” the woman began.  
  
Skylar clicked the device off, impatiently. “It won’t work without a clear sample,” she chided. It was irritating always having to explain things to people.  
  
The professor raised an eyebrow at his companion and she backed down with hands raised in surrender. Guess he was the boss, though the woman didn’t seem used to being bossed around.  
  
“I’m Doctor Lee Rosen,” the man said in a calm, low voice. “I work with a specialized task force to study individuals with extraordinary abilities, abilities we believe are evidence of the advancing neurological development of the human species.”  
  
Alarm bells immediately started going off in Skylars brain. She had far too much experience with research involving human subjects and the whole idea made her skin crawl. “So you’re not here for this, you’re looking for a lab rat,” Skylar said disdainfully, her voice coming through the synchronizer and mimicking Rosen’s voice so it was a haughty echo of the psychiatrist’s tone and timber.  
  
“Hey, that’s pretty good,” Nina said, smiling disarmingly. “Now * _ **put it down**_ * and * _ **come with us**_ *.”  
  
There was no thoughts involved, only a kind of blankness in a usually nervously animated face. Skylar obediently did as she was told. She followed Nina and Rosen out without even glancing back at her workshop, her inventions, her life.  
  
In the car, she started asking questions again, slipping from Nina’s control enough to ask, “Who are you?”  She reached for a small container that could have held mace or, knowing Skylar, it could have been just about anything.  
  
Nina stepped in quickly. “* _ **calm down**_ *” she ordered and Skylar subsided, breath slowing and tension leaving her face. “* _ **give that to me**_ * We’re not going to hurt you,” she said, speaking soothingly. Nina pinched the vial between two manicured fingers and handed it to Rosen, who didn't seem to know what to do with it either. He held it gingerly as Nina reassured the skittish alpha. “You can trust us,” she promised.  
  
But trust wasn’t her strong suit. Skylar spent the next few hours alternately bristling, taunting, threatening and fighting them. Nina was the only one who could get a straight answer out of her, using her alpha ability until they started to worry about the long term effect. Trying a different tactic, Nina brought in a plate of authentic greek food. She sent everyone else away.

Skylar eyed her suspiciously, humor gone from her eyes. She scanned the bare interrogation room, taking inventory. Though she hadn't been harmed, adrenaline coursed through her veins. 

“Okay, so you don’t feel like sharing right now,” Nina said graciously, pushing the food toward Skylar. “Why don’t you listen for a while?”  
  
Skylar’s look wondered if she had a choice, but after a small hesitation, she started in on the spanakopita and served herself some salad.  
  
Nina ate daintily as she talked. “Nobody says no to me. Ever,” she said simply. “And it comes in handy, for sure. Life certainly hasn’t been difficult in that sense. Still, when Rosen tracked me down, he had enough dirt on me to make me nervous. I pushed him away. Hard. I think when he came around, he was on a train to Minneapolis.”  
  
Skylar smiled grimly, enjoying at least that part of the story. Nina smirked back at her.  
  
“But I’ll say one thing for him, Rosen is persistent,” Nina said, “and I was a real piece of work then...” She glanced at Skylar, “He helps people like us.”  
  
“Whether we want help or not?” Skylar asked piercingly.  
  
Nina shrugged. “Nobody makes me do anything.”  
  
“How does that work, anyway?” Skylar asked. “Honest to God mind control... shit.” She said it with admiration, at last seeming to give in to the situation she couldn't control.  
  
Nina recognized the compliment and returned it. “It’s nothing compared to your abilities, Skylar. Some of that stuff in your workshop? It could change everything.”  
  
Skylar shrugged. “That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?” Skylar’s voice was bleakly disillusioned. “So your bosses can change the world, bring it to heel. The government? It’s nothing but a greedy belly hungry for money and power, power and money. Don’t ask me to work for them.” She searched Nina's face, hoping to find an ally there. Because if Nina told her to work for Rosen, she wouldn't be able to resist. For someone whose identity was wrapped up in counter-culture and rebellion, the idea was terrifying.  
   
Nina was used to people recoiling when they learned about her abilities. It still stung. “I won't," she promised evenly. "As long as the psych eval doesn’t show danger to society, you’ll be released. All we want to do is run some tests and ask some questions."

Skylar nodded, relaxing gradually.

"It’s too bad though," Nina said with a sad smile. "I would have liked having you around.” She looked a little wistful as she finished eating.


	2. Tests and Interviews

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An early session with Dr Rosen

_“The usual tests and interviews. Posed no threat to society, so back to the wild.”_  
  
“So what is this?” Skylar asked, looking sardonically at Dr. Rosen from her seat in his office. “I just want my ticket out of here. Not really a ‘joiner’.” She was calmer now, seeing the end of her ordeal with the Department of Defense. Though she was still pissed at Rosen, she wasn't blind to his good intentions.  
  
“Yes, I noticed that,” Rosen said dryly, glancing at his notes. “We have routine tests and interview procedures. When we’re finished, you’ll most likely be free to go. I have no wish to keep you against your will.”  
  
“Nina said this was the psych eval.” Skylar said, uncomfortably. She’d hinted it was important.  
  
“In a way,” Rosen equivocated. He paused to gather his thoughts. “My goal is primarily academic. I will use your profile to get a clearer picture of the alpha phenomena.”  
  
Skylar gave a quiet snort of derision.  “Such honorable intentions” she scoffed. _What was it they said about the road to hell?_ The doctor was walking a line here, one where individual rights were balanced against the good of the many. Nina had been vague about Binghamton and the fate for those alphas too "dangerous" to be free. Skylar was no student of human behavior, but even she could read the pale silence in the young woman's eyes. They were all of them different. They were all dangerous, potentially lethal. Game-changers.  
  
Rosen paused, a slight note of disapproval in his frown. “I am also able and willing to provide appropriate therapy for my patients. Alphas possess amazing talents and abilities,” he continued, “but the neurochemical adaptations that produce genius often have psychosocial ramifications."  
  
Skylar heard the offer hidden within the jargon. She could be one of them. But she wasn't a team player. “You’re not my first shrink,” she interrupted, rolling her eyes. They’d had her signed up since fourth grade, when her volcano science project had spewed actual molten rock. And, yeah, it was a joke to think they did it purely for her own benefit. “Didn’t help me much in high school. And you can be damn sure I’m not talking with a doc on the government payroll.”  Nervously, she traced the line of ink on her forearm.    
  
Rosen watched her shrewdly. She was a lot like his Dani. And he hadn't been able to protect his daughter, either, or convince her to stay. “The other alphas here have made great strides in dealing with the side-effects of their abilities. Therapy is one component, but I believe that connecting and sharing with other alphas has also helped each member of this team,” Rosen continued calmly.  
  
“The only ‘side-effect’ of my ability is that it makes me oh-so-tempting to people like you,” Skylar scoffed.  
  
“Therapists?” Rosen said blandly.  
  
Skylar’s glare reminded Rosen that sarcasm was a helpful psychiatric tool. “Government agents” she corrected coldly. Then she smirked. “People have been after me since I was in middle school. So-called ‘scholarships’ were just an excuse to get me working for their team.”

"What's special about you, Skylar?" Rosen asked. "What do they want from you?"

Skylar raised one eyebrow. "Isn't that what we've been doing all these tests to determine? How fast my brain works and my so-called 'intuitive genius'?"  
  
Rosen didn't rise to the bait. “Are you responsible for how your inventions are used?” he asked.  
  
Skylar’s gaze became a little haunted, and she looked away. It was a damn good question and she was starting to see why Nina had found the middle-aged erudite hippie life coach “helpful.” Not that she was enjoying this.  
  
“I’m not _not_ responsible,” Skylar said tightly. She had a lot of experience with chasing after her ideas, brilliantly and explosively concieved. In the hands of idiots with bad intentions, they could destroy the world.   
  
“How do you keep your inventions from being used to harm others?” Rosen continued, voice carefully neutral.  
  
Skylar gave him a warning look, her sharp gaze betraying her instinctive caution, paranoia, distrust. “I make things. People want them." Her hands moved anxiously until she made them clutch her knees tightly and held them there. "I don’t make or sell weapons, but if you're trying hard enough to make trouble, anything can be... a problem.” _Even if you weren't trying, actually_.  
  
Rosen nodded. “And how would you feel if something you made were used that way? To destroy, maim or kill?”  
  
Skylar supposed her response to this question was pretty relevant to her getting a green light out of here. She still didn’t want to answer it. “I’d try to get it back. It’s easier to unmake something than it is to put it together, usually.”  
  
“How would you feel?” Rosen prompted again.  
  
Skylar said nothing. The silence was awkward and pregnant.  
  
Rosen didn’t pursue it, seeing plainly that the anger, guilt and fear that played across Skylar’s face.  “You could make a lot of money by pursuing intellectual property rights and allowing for mass production of your inventions,” he suggested.  
  
Skylar’s smile was superior. She didn’t care about money. “Don't worry, I'm not going to sell out,” she said scornfully.  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“Because I don’t belong to anyone,” Skylar said fiercely. “And I’m no one’s damn golden goose.”  
  
“You sell your inventions, though?” Rosen prompted.  
  
“I entertain offers,” Skylar said. “Sometimes they’re acceptable. Sometimes not.”  
  
“What makes them acceptable?”  
  
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Skylar quipped. In reality, it depended on the client and how strapped for cash she was at the time. She had rules, ones that made sense to her. They kept her safe and off the radar. Governments and corporate giants were definitely not on her client list. Which meant she was done cooperating.  
  
“So, did I pass?” she asked sarcastically.


	3. Lifetime of Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skylar trying to persuade Nina to get that first tattoo.

_Nina: That time we went bar-hopping in So-ho? It’s the closest I ever got._  
 _Skylar: One more cosmopolitan and you woulda got that devil on your thigh._  
 _Nina: And a lifetime of regret_  
  
Skylar wasn’t yet a free woman. Nina was keeping an eye on her, her official keeper until she could go on her way. She was a caged bird so long as the other alpha had her in sight, given Nina's effective means of persuasion. That didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy themselves.

After spending the day in Rosen's office, Nina took her out, abandoning the silver mercedes without paying for parking. Skylar followed curiously, caught up in the whirlwind that was Nina's private life. The tall, sexy, powerful woman didn’t need her alpha ability to get them free drinks at the dark and luxurious clubs Nina knew in SoHo. Skylar was getting comfortable herself, sipping at her cosmo and watching how the other half lived.   
  
“What’s the deal with all the body art?” Nina asked, leaning over the table to take a closer look.  
  
“I thought the psych eval was over,” Skylar said, grinning over her drink.  
  
“Just curious,” Nina said.  
  
Skylar shrugged. “I guess it's a way to... lay a claim. People have always wanted a piece of me,” she said, sipping her drink. “They want my brain, my inventions, my body...” she glared suspiciously at the overly friendly local who did seem interested in just that. “So it's my way of taking charge, saying this is who I'm going to be.” She held out her wrist for Nina to examine.   
  
“Yeah, well, it looks good.” Nina said, running a finger over the Skylar’s forearm lightly. She caressed the image with open admiration.  
  
Skylar flexed her arm and turned to show off the tree on her upper arm. There was a thrill in the exhibition. She felt Nina’s eyes on her: powerful, literally hypnotic eyes. While she usually went for simple, satisfying sex with appreciative men, something about Nina made her pulse inside. “Tell me to do something,” she said on a whim, tucking her arm away again. She was trying to remember what it felt like when Nina really _pushed_.   
  
“Buy me a drink,” Nina said, causally, flirtatiously.  
  
“No,” Skylar whined, face twisting into a pout. “ _Tell me_.”  
  
Nina leaned forward, breath hot in the dark. “*Tell me you love me*,” she said. Because she wanted to hear it, needed to hear it. Even from strangers passing through the night. Even when it wasn't true.   
  
“I love you,” Skylar said immediately, eyes unflinching. She looked as if she believed it, too, leaning toward her over the high table, dark eyes glimmering between the lines of makeup, streaks of blue hair framing her face.  
  
Nina knew she could have her; she could have anyone. Anyone with ears to hear and eyes to see. Desire stirred inside of her and she wanted to kiss the tender cupid’s bow of Skylar’s lips. The other woman leaned forward in answer to her unspoken desire. But Nina hesitated, her work with Rosen ruining her high.   
  
Then Skylar was back, recovering from the mini seizures or whatever-the-fuck happened to people when Nina pushed them. Skylar’s eyes suddenly mocked her impudently instead of offering up the immediate submission. “Interesting,” she said, as if toothing a tender area of her mouth.  
  
Nina smiled back, gulping the last of her drink. “Your thing... how does that work?” she asked.   
  
Skylar considered it a moment, eyes unfocused and face intent. Then she blinked and looked back at Nina. “When I look at something, my mind automatically breaks it down to all the different parts or components. Some parts I can just see, or others I can guess because they just have to there. There are only certain ways something can come together so it _works_. Sometimes there are lots of possibilities, but usually just one way. The best way.”  
  
“And that’s what you make?” Nina asked.  
  
“If I have the right parts and I want to.” Skylar said, shrugging. They walked out into the cooler air outside. It was brighter, too, because of the street lights.   
  
Skylar led the way, then, heading for a place she liked. This time Nina followed, bemused. Technically, the parlor was closed. But  Skylar rapped on the side door and a guy named Tim answered and greeted her with a nod. Inside, it was a strange mix of velvet and metal. Skylar had a beer, but Nina shook her head, taking in the room. 

"This is where you get your ink?" Nina asked, looking at the framed photos of dragons painted on backs, goddesses on forearms, and flowers winding up collar bones.  

Skylar was flipping absently through a book while sitting on an intimate little alcove in the main room. "Well, I did design the needles," she said.   
  
“Have something in mind?” Tim said, not quite smiling.  
  
“Brought in a blank canvass.” Skylar responded, eyeing Nina as if appraising her mood and potential. She handed over the book encouragingly and washed her hands, getting ready for the small greek alpha she was going to add, right below the knuckle of her pointer  finger on her left hand.

"I don't think so," Nina said immediately.

"Look at these," Skylar instructed, handing her a binder. "Just think about it." She was enjoying herself. Her life was all about things, not people. Going out with friends wasn't really a part of her life... because she didn't really _have_ friends. But she and Nina, though wildly different, had something significant in common. She showed the letter she wanted to Tim.   
  
“Easy enough,” Tim said, studying it for a minute. He got out some inks and showed Skylar, who seemed to know the business well. She chose a deep purple.

As they prepped the area and started working, Nina flipped through the books. With the looseness that comes from two cosmos on an emtpy stomach, she entertained the possibility. Not just the tattoo, but the life Skylar had chosen. It called to her, like her old life sometimes did. Doing whatever she wanted, just because she could. Because no one could tell her not to. She looked down at the designs, imagining what it would be like... though she already knew. 

When Skylar’s hand was finished and washed she went up to her friend, displaying the fresh wound with satisfaction and pride before it disappeared behind a bandage.  
  
“That’s cool,” Skylar said, looking at the page open under Nina’s hands. There was a series of silhouettes that showed a debonair devil dancing, holding his partener in different positions. Nina’s finger traced the one where he held the woman, seemingly in his thrall.  
  
“Fitting, but I don’t think so,” Nina said, shutting the book. “Let’s go.”  
  
“What if I want to stay?” Skylar challenged.  
  
Nina looked at her skeptically. “Rosen wants you back in tomorrow. Crash at my place tonight and tomorrow, you’ll be free.”  
  
Knowing it was useless to argue, Skylar followed Nina as she searched for an easy mark, someone to give them a ride home.


	4. Mother of necessity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skylar first realizing that Zoe was an Alpha.

_Rosen: How long has Zoe been doing this?_  
 _Skylar: Since she was three. First it was just numbers, playing with them, talking about them. Then she was solving equations and proving formulas._  
 _Rosen: I have never encountered quantitative aptitude on this level before in a child or an adult._  
 _Skylar: I knew eventually people would come after her._  
  
Zoe’s sing song voice came drifting from her room. _She always wakes up so damn early_ Skylar thought ruefully, swathing herself in a robe and stumbling toward her coffee maker. Coffee makers were kind of a hobby of hers and she made a new one every month or so. This one had the advantage of being quick and she didn’t have to restock it often. It whirred, grinding the beans fresh. Moments later a generous doppio frothed into her mug, rich with crema. Definitely a necessary part of her morning.  
  
It wasn’t that Skylar didn’t love being Zoe’s mom. She’d had her baby willingly and all on her own. She was proud of that, if nothing else.  But Skylar was used to a certain level of success. Being a genius did that to a person.  The trial and error of motherhood made her a little crazy. Never had she failed so many times and still kept with something. She'd never even had a relationship that lasted more than a couple months. People, she'd learned, didn't make sense. At least not the way machines did. And yet she was responsible for one little person and she cared about her daughter more than anything in the world. She was humbled by the experience of staying up with Zoe when she was sick, making sure Zoe had healthy food to eat and clean clothes to wear. She'd struggled to stop swearing and reluctantly removed each tattoo, rewriting a new message on her arm. _Rebel._ _Mom._   
  
Armed with her caffeine, Skylar walked down the hall toward Zoe’s room. Their place was small, but the two of them didn’t take up too much space. Zoe loved ragdolls, wore a tutu over her clothes all day, and didn’t seem to mind the bohemian lifestyle. Of course, all Skylar had to do was sign a contract and they’d be in a different place entirely. The price of anonymity was the claustrophobic little workshop next door to her daughter’s bedroom. Most of her tools she also made herself, but spare parts she picked up from Chen. She sold what she could to interested buyers. On the government payroll, she could have custom-made parts and nearly unlimited resources, but she still wasn't willing to lay golden eggs just for a little job security. She wasn't that desperate.   
  
Zoe was singing, as she did constantly about everyday things, whatever came into her head, with little attention to tune. Skylar listened for a few seconds before her mind actually processed the content of her little song. “Ten tens is ‘hundred,” Zoe sang. “Ten hundreds is a thousand, a thousand thousands is ‘million. A thousand million’s a trillion, a thousand trillions is a quadrillion.” Skylar’s felt a little chilled as she heard Zoe explain the base ten number system in a sing song voice. The three-year-old had only recently mastered going potty, and now she was conceptualizing the kind of numbers that had prompted use of scientific notation.  
  
Skylar found herself leaning against the wall, listening to the innocent musings of her child’s mind. Her genius child. How had she missed this before? Only yesterday, it had seemed like a silly game they were playing. Zoe had been sticking number stickers in a neat line and holding the paper up. "What's this number, mommy?" Glancing up from her work, Skylar had read each number out loud, bemused at how delighted Zoe was over the stickers and her mother’s answers, which got longer and longer as the line of stickers grew. Clueless mom hadn’t found it strange. Now she felt as if she'd walked through the looking glass. Everything that had seemed so small loomed large around her.   
  
Zoe had taped her beloved number "art" up on the wall next to her bed. Now Skylar looked at it, hallowly reading it out in her head: _Sixty two quadrillion, four hundred and two trillion, eight hundred and eighty eight billion, eight hundred and thirty six million, one hundred and fifty thousand, one hundred and fifty five_.  
  
“What’cha doing Z?” she asked, face neutral as she made her way into the room, into new unexplored territory of her daughter’s genius.  
  
“Singin’!” Zoe said brightly, small curls bouncing as she jumped on her bed.  
  
Skylar walked over to the desk and got a pad of paper. She sat down on the bed and immediately had a lap full of three-year old. “Want to play the number game?" She asked.

Zoe nodded happily. 

"What’s this number?” Skylar asked, mimicking Zoe’s question from the day before. She wrote a four digit number down on the pad.   
  
Zoe glanced over and sang out “five thousand-nine hundred-twenty-seven”! They did it with five digit numbers, eight digits and as many as fifteen digits. Zoe also could do large number addition and subtraction in her head. Skylar felt her panic mounting as Zoe started counting by thirteens. She drank the last of her cold espresso with a nervous gulp.

"Hey Z," she said faintly, "let's play something else for a while."

"Okay, mommy," Zoe agreed, sitting down with some crayons at the kitchen table. Skylar didn't have the courage to ask if she could write her numbers yet. She hoped the fine motor skills were not quite there. 

She knew Rosen's theory about genetic advancement, but hadn't quite believed it. Not like this. Genius was supposed to be random, not genetic. For the first time in over a year, she thought of Granger. He was Zoe's father, but he knew nothing about Z, having moved on before Skylar knew she was pregnant. She remembered how he used to look at her, like he knew what she was thinking without her having to struggle with the words. He would respond to unspoken questions, finish conversations that had been started inside her head. She felt complete exposed to him. But was telepathy even possible? Was she remembering it correctly? Could he have been an alpha too? And what did that mean for Zoe? But the questions were useless unless she could track him down.

For a blessed minute, Skylar was so busy thinking about a machine that could track down her ex, she almost forgot to worry.  Then her mind again began to whirr urgently like government helicopters. Zoe ate her cheerios, blissfully unaware. She didn’t know what was coming, but Skylar did. For three years, she had been pretending they were okay. Skylar used her alpha ability to keep them safe. But she couldn’t hide a light as big as Zoe’s for long. They would come for her daughter. The thought made her throat constrict painfully.  
  
She’d have to be ready.


End file.
